And The Blurry Shades Of Green
by Wicked Through and Through
Summary: Draco detests Harry. Harry detests Draco. Always has been and always will be- right? (Watch it Slash)


And the Blurry Shades of Green Draco detests Harry. Harry detests Draco. Always has been and always will be- right? (Watch it~ Slash)  
  
Disclaimer: I don't own the Harry Potter books, or the movies. If I did, they'd be much more pornographic, contain homosexuality, and be and much less interesting ^_~ Warning: This fic contains slash/shounen-ai/boy's love/yaoi/mxm relationships, whatever you want to call it, it means homosexual male relationships. This fic also contains semi-descriptive sex, and rape. Don't like it? Don't read it. No flames, please.  
  
Many thoughts were askew in Draco Malfoy's mind as he lay lazily across the floor in his private quarters in Malfoy Manor. Pain surged through his body, from the tips of his ghastly fingers, up his pale arms, coursing straight down to his feet. Words, his father's words, echoed hauntingly through his mind; "That's not good enough, Draco. But if you want to make a fool of youself, I can assure you, I won't hesitate to let you."  
  
What was his father, Draco asked himself? Wrong. That's what he was. Wrong. It was good enough. Lovely, handsome, graceful Draco Malfoy being the rival of the famous, powerful, all-knowing Harry Potter. He didn't have to hurt him, He didn't have to kill him, He didn't even have to outdo Potter. He was his rival.  
  
Draco told himself this time and time again, reassuring himself each time he felt helpless in putting up the façade, the masquerade every day. And it worked, always giving him a faint light of hope.  
  
He wondered, though, as tiny beads of sweat began to form on his pale forehead- Just how long would he be able to use this mask?  
  
How long would he be able to hide his shame and himself?  
  
==  
  
"Oh, for heaven's sake! Potter! Malfoy! The both of you stop that this instant!"  
  
Harry looked down at his knuckles, now ghostly-white thanks to the tight grip he had on the collar of Malfoy's robes. He let go of the blonde boy, giving him a strange look before dropping him to the ground and lazily climbing to his feet. Draco, still on the floor, ran a pale hand over his slick flaxen locks and used one arm to grab the wooden table and pull himself up. He didn't look at Harry.  
  
"I don't know what it's going to take to make you two stop," McGonagall continued, "But I can assure you that if this continues, both of you will be facing expulsion. 30 points from each of your houses, and three days' detention for the both of you."  
  
Transfiguration, Harry decided, was the most disgustingly awful class ever. It was always something- Having to beat on Malfoy, having to avoid his glares, losing points, or just plain forgetting his homework. McGonagall made one last note on the never-ending essay they were supposed to do before dismissing the class. Potter grabbed his large pile of books rather briskly, and stalked out of the classroom, not bothering to wait for his friends.  
  
Hermione took quick, tiny steps with her thin legs, desperate to catch up. "Harry!" She called, finally catching up to him, "What's gotten into you lately? You've gotten so many detentions! And with Malfoy! Why?" Harry gaped at Hermione like she'd just dipped into the crack pipe.  
  
"You think I like it?" He cried, his bottom lip quivering, "Oh, yeah, that's just what I want. More time with Malfoy."  
  
"Yeah," Accused Ron, finally catching up, "You think he likes it, Mione? If I were him, I'd have done myself in ages ago."  
  
'Yes, that's what I should do,' Harry taunted himself as his two friends found a new subject to occupy their lips, 'I should do myself in. Then I wouldn't have to deal with this every day.' However, Harry's angsty thoughts were cut short as he felt a slight blow against his left shoulder.  
  
Looking back to scowl at the inconsiderate fool who'd bumped into him, Harry's eyes met the ice-blue gaze of Draco Malfoy. "See you in detention, Potter." He sneered.  
  
That sneer. Malfoy was always sneering at Harry, in the corridors, in the dungeons and on the Quidditch pitch. It was Draco Malfoy's sneer that really got to Harry, really struck a nerve. He hated that sneer.  
  
He almost hated it more than the feeling it gave him. Almost.  
  
==  
  
"10 points to Gryffindor! Flint in posession- Oh! Wonderful steal there by Angelina Johnson, I've always liked that girl, so good and so attractive."  
  
"Jordan!"  
  
"Sorry, proffesor."  
  
Clouds covered the Quidditch pitch like a thick blanket that day, and the mist hung low, creating blurry shades of green, making it almost impossible for Harry to see. The only thing he could see, in fact, was the outline of Draco Malfoy, whom he'd been tailing for circa fifteen minutes now. It was really the only thing he could do, and Draco must have known, because he wasn't making it easy for Harry. Every few minutes he'd feign a dive, pretending he'd seen something, only to return to his same nonchalant circle around the pitch.  
  
All of a sudden, Draco dived again, and the obedient Harry followed. He was surprised when the blonde didn't pull out of this particular dive in the first few seconds. He must have really seen something! Harry leaned forward on the slender handle of his Firebolt, coaxing it to move faster, to catch up with Malfoy. It wasn't all that hard- Harry, having the faster broom, was able to catch up in a matter of seconds, for he hadn't been tailing that far behind. His sapphire eyes caught sight of the sparkles that shown through the green mist, the golden shine that cut through the shadows- the snitch. Again, Harry pleaded with his broom to move faster, as he played this game of chase with Malfoy.  
  
"Catch me if you can, Potter!" Malfoy looked back at Harry, his diamond eyes lingering on the boy who lived for longer than they should have. Draco stared at Harry's eyes- they were so much like his own, and they seemed so familiar. Was it because they had the same eyes? Had Draco been looking at them in the thousand mirrors at Malfoy Manor all these years, or did he know them from looking at Harry?  
  
The blonde didn't let himself linger on that thought long enough to decide, because regardless of Harry's eyes, Quidditch was still important. Potter was moving in on him at and incredible speed, and Draco couldn't have that. Harry's eyes, no longer fixed on Draco, but the snitch, were drawn from it as a bludger grazed his outstretched arm. Harry let out a small cry, out of either surprise or pain, and Draco looked back, making a strange noise that was somewhere between a gasp and a laugh. Seizing his chance, Malfoy pushed forward on his Nimbus and closed his white fingers over the small, struggling snitch.  
  
No sooner had Draco landed his feet on the ground when his entire body was tackled by Harry. Reaching with a large hand, Harry grasped a cluster of Draco's flaxen locks between his bony fingers.  
  
"No fair." Harry whispered in Draco's ear, "I'd been hit." His breathing was heavy against the blonde's face, and Draco was unsure where the boy's breathlessness came from. He smiled a little half-smile.  
  
"That's how the game's played, Ha." Malfoy's words were cut short as Harry felt a sharp tug on the back of his Quidditch robes. He felt himself being pulled swiftly upward, and then thrown down just as swiftly. The boy looked up into the outraged face of Severus Snape. 


End file.
